Gone Too Soon
by Rebellious Phoenix
Summary: Boromir has a betrothed who is forever against him, but will she ever learn to love before it is too late?
1. Chapter 1

**_A/N: There are probably hundreds of such stories out there, but I just got this urge to write._**

**_I don't own anything LotR. The story is not meant to copy, if it is similar to some other fanfic, it is probably coincidental..._**  
--

**Chapter 1**

"Leave me be!" the fiery-tempered maiden boomed.

"Ianthe-"

"Go!"

The visitor shut the door, quietly leaving. Ianthe let herself fall on the bed, trying to control the great urge to scream again. It was no wonder that she had no suitors, for she knew naught of grooming herself to bloom like a flower, nor did she possess etiquette, or a gentle nature. In short, she was unfavourable for a daughter-in-law.

It was so that her father, a proud man, felt that she was a disgrace to the household. He had his wife bore him many sons and daughters after, all of who were stout and graceful respectively. Being the elder, Ianthe was an outrageously bad example. The people saw her as a spoilt child, for they had only met her fiery nature, but never what goes on beyond the walls of her home. Her father cared not for her, and her mother was simply too tired to even care.

"May I enter?" A worn out and weary voice asked from beyond the door of Ianthe's chamber.

"No you may not." Ianthe said firmly, rolling over to her side on the bed. She knew it was her mother.

Still, Ianthe's mother approached, even though she had heard her child's wish. Ianthe was never that mean, just a temper that none has succeeded in taming. "What is it?" Ianthe finally demanded.

"Your father has something to...announce to you." Ianthe's mother answered.

"And of what matter?"

"Of your future, and what you are to do."

Ianthe lifted herself from her position, and sat up properly. "Mother, please, dispense with all that subtlety, I am no child to pacify, to persuade to accept Father's wish. What would father even arrange for my future, anyway? Certainly nothing too grave. He sees no use in me. I know not grace, yet I am foreign to weaponry. And even I can admit to myself I am downright useless!" Ianthe said, her voice becoming soft, washing away the harshness that had been there a second ago.

"My child, you shall see him in his study. He will tell you all that he has to. I am not trying to be subtle, but to be careful with my words, less you be too furious to see your father." Ianthe's mother replied, then gave a little smile. "Perhaps... Just perhaps there is someone who can tame your wild temper."

Ianthe looked at her mother in confusion, wondering why she was averting the issue. Nevertheless, she did as she was told, and walked briskly to the study of her father. She had forgotten to knock the door in the hurry, but though her father was irritated by this move, he made no complaint, and slowly, his gaze rose from his paperwork to that of his unsightly daughter. Ianthe still looked as defiant as ever. She was never on close terms with her father.

"Well?"

"I do hope you will cure that ill habit of yours. You should not speak so freely and without thought. Especially if you will stand before royals and those in high regard." Ianthe's father reprimanded, glaring at her with two big eyes. He then continued, "I do not know what spell this is, or a curse perhaps, but you were chosen among your siblings. I have gently advised against it, but it could not be prevented."

"Do not beat about the bush, Father. What matter are you speaking of?" Ianthe asked impatiently.

She wondered why her father was speaking of her being in the presence of royals and such, for her life was not bound to meeting one. At least, not from near. She knew she would never have to speak to one, only watch from afar. Nor would she be outstanding in the crowd, for she was never one who dolled herself much. But what her father said next answered her question.

"You are to wed the Lord Boromir."

This resounded in Ianthe's mind for a very long time, as though it were an echo that would not fade away. "F-father, are you playing a joke on me? Tell me, father, have I done yet something wrong to displease you again? For I will not have this arrangement!" Ianthe exclaimed, staring at her father in plea.

"Alas, you will have it. You must, my child."

Ianthe looked even more oddly at the man before her. He had never addressed her as his child before, and now the words poured out of his lips so gently. It was clear that this was no joke, but Ianthe could never believe it was she. She had so many sisters who bore better qualities than she, who looked more radiant, and were more capable. Ianthe was utterly talent less, and had not the beauty to support her. She was in good figure, yes, but still, her outlook did not look very pleasing to the eye.  
Ianthe, not wanting to show the weaker side of her, bowed, and left the study, never once letting her tears spill, even in the comfort of solitude. She would not give up.

_ 'Tis nothing...They will reflect back on their mistake in picking me... There is nothing to fear, I will be all right, I will be all right._

But Ianthe knew she would not be all right. She hid her head beneath the pillow, trying to shut out her father's words.

Hours later, an excited knock sounded on the door of Ianthe' room suddenly, and Ianthe rose from the bed.

"Oh sister, come see this! There is snow already! In no time we'll be able to skate!"

Ianthe unlocked the door, and in the doorway stood Elysia, the youngest sister of the family. She was 18, and often held the favour of many. She had a pair of eyes as blue as the ocean, and two lush, full lips that often curved into an arc to form an infectious smile.

Elysia looked at her sister in confusion. "What is it, dear sister? You should be glad of the winter's coming. You did so enthusiastically ask if I could go ice-skating with you. What has overcome you now?"

"Have you not heard from Father?" Ianthe asked dejectedly.

"No, what is the matter?"

"I do not have the heart to speak of it this moment. Elysia, I apologize. Perhaps you might want to seek Second Sister or your two brothers to skate?"

"Ha! Lysandra is forever out dancing. Or singing, even. She has talent in that field. And she is so much in love with it, I'd doubt she'd want to ice-skate! And our two brothers? Can you even tear them away from their swords?" Elysia replied, and plopped softly down on Ianthe's bed. "Oh before I forget..." Elysia continued, changing the subject. She retrieved a wooden flute from her skirts, and handed it to her sister. "Here, the craftsman is fantastic. He finished carving your flute with high speed."

"I thank you, sister! Now I shall be with companion again. Father disapproves of it, I know. But I don't see how the harp won't put me to sleep, or any other stringed instrument, for that matter."

"Well that flute has caused you much trouble, and had Father put more dislike into you! I suppose he would rather you play the harp."

"But he cannot force me to if I won't. He knows my temper."

"And it is odd how you are not flaring up when I saw that glum look on your face just a moment ago. Will you tell me what Father has said?" Elysia inquired.

Ianthe sat down on the rug beside the fireplace, looking up at her younger sister. "I am afraid if it really does happen, we would not see each other so often anymore. I am betrothed."

Elysia widened her eyes at Ianthe. "Betrothed? Is there some madness, why is there still this custom? And Father... Why did Father pick you, anyway?"

"That is what I do not know. I am certainly going to give hell to my future husband. I wish I could avoid this. I wish I could escape from this city. But all my life, I've been here, so I know not what the world outside is like. I am trapped. There is no way I can escape." Ianthe sadly answered. "Perhaps...Just perhaps Father hates the sight of me, and so sends me off to someone else. But he did say he advised against it. So far, I do not know the reason. But I hope if they do get to see me, they might rethink and disagree to this arrangement. I am sure they do not want such an untamed woman."

"Sister, thus far you have mentioned, I have seen that you have left out the name of your man. Who is he?"

"He is not my man!" Ianthe snapped. "He is Lord Boromir."

Elysia looked hard at her sister, as though trying to find some speck of evidence on her that she was lying. When she could find none, she started getting off the bed and sitting beside her sister on the rug. "Boromir?!" Elysia asked in wonder. "Now this is getting very, very peculiar. No disrespect to you, sister, but it is a mystery why they chose you."

"I know. I'm checked off the list for every item: etiquette, manners, politeness, temper, grooming and whatever you can think of." Ianthe sighed, and went to the dressing table, lazily tying her hair into a bun, and sticking a silver pin across it. "Some matchmaker is being blind."

"Oh we shall see."

"See what?" Ianthe demanded, folding her arms.

"How you fare as a wife, of course!" Elysia answered, trying to hold back fits of laughter.

"Oh I am NOT going to be one." Ianthe grumbled. She started to tidy her crumpled bed sheets, trying to take her mind off the current affair. "He is NOT going to like me either. You'll see."

"Then it will be a good show."

"I'd rather there was no show, nosey sister."

Elysia laughed. She emerged from Ianthe's room into her own. _"She'll never give in, her determination is hard as diamonds. Though... the heart about her heart can be as brittle as ice if the right hammer is used..."_ Elysia thought.


	2. Chapter 2

**Gods-girl2004** >> Thanks for the pointers! I extended the last part about Denethor's thoughts.. Hope that answers your question... ) 

_A/N: Thanks for that one reviewer!_

The story might be going slow, but I am trying to put detail into it. I'd love to receive pointers and suggestions to improve my fanfictions, so I hope the review goes beyond saying "It's great, please continue" or something like that... Of course, you are allowed to..It was just a wish of mine that I get pointers for improvement. :)

* * *

**Chapter 2**

"Ianthe, Ianthe! You will not be difficult, please! Free the lock, and let me in to get you ready."

Ianthe folded her arms, sitting on her bed. "Mother, leave me alone, I beg you. I do not want to go!"

"Whether you like to or not, for once, listen to your father. It is a meeting, nothing more. Unlock the door this instance, or I shall call for guards to break down this door!" Ianthe's mother demanded, being stern now. Softness was not going to persuade Ianthe, she realised.

Elysia went up to Ianthe's door as well, knocking. "Sister, you said if he met you, he would dislike you, so why are you hiding now? Come out and settle everything! You are one queer person; I admit I do not fully understand your doings. But please, for once, refrain from being your rebellious self!"

"If I were not to turn up, then of course they wouldn't want to have such a woman in their household, who doesn't know her place! What for I waste the effort in making a trip up to the citadel? The outcome will be the same, attendance or no. I refuse to go!" Ianthe shouted out in reply.

"Oh I don't think so. Just this once, go out and settle it at once!" Elysia pleaded.

The door came unlock, and the two women outside heaved a sigh of relief. Ianthe was a hard woman to handle, and Elysia wondered how on earth did she inherit the temper so unlike both her parents. "I'm warning you, no dolling me up." Ianthe glared at her sister.

"But you have to-"

Ianthe cut her mother's words off with, "NO!"

"Then at least change into a more appropriate dress?" Ianthe's mother asked in exasperation.

* * *

Ianthe's father waited nervously in the Hall of Kings. He had not come together with his daughter, for he did not want to anger the steward in being late. He was growing more anxious by the second, afraid that Ianthe was, again, being difficult for her mother. He knew her temper well.

"Well? Where is your daughter? Must she perfect herself before standing in front of me? Tell her I need no such preparation." Denethor demanded, starting to lose patience.

"I apologize, my lord, she has encountered some... problems." Ianthe's father replied.

At last, Ianthe was dragged in by her mother. She curtsied stiffly in the steward's presence, even though she did not want to marry into his family. It was a sign of respect for the old man, for he had done his part in raising the White City. She waited but no one spoke. She did not look at anyone, but looked to her side instead.

"And why is the young maiden facing her side? Will you not look at your lord? Or is the statue of past kings interesting you so?" Denethor asked, raising an eyebrow.

Ianthe felt a nudge from her mother, and then unwillingly turned to look up at the man before her. She held a very rebellious and defiant look in her eyes, but this was her being her usual self.

After looking Ianthe over, Denethor finally gave a nod, and said, "Yes."

Ianthe's father searched for a more direct answer, and asked, "Yes, my lord?"

"She will do." Denethor replied.

Ianthe stared at Denethor in disbelief. That was it? He had not known how she would be like, how tyrannous she was... But the old and arrogant man walked away, not reconsidering his decision. Ianthe watched the back of Denethor turn back into one of the lesser halls, disappearing down a narrow passageway.

"Ianthe, come, we turn for home." Ianthe's father said, heading out the door. To Ianthe, her father seemed relieved and happy with the decision. Was she really that loathsome such that her father was glad to be rid of her?

* * *

"So?" Elysia expectantly asked.

Ianthe threw herself on the bed, still in disbelief. "So? Denethor still wants me as his daughter-in-law!" Ianthe angrily answered, slamming her hand on the pillow. "All he did was look me over, then said 'Yes'! I don't believe it! Where is the logic, sister?"

"So there really shall be a show to watch!" Elysia exclaimed in a light-hearted manner, hiding fits of laughter.

Ianthe groaned at this. "Why do you make fun of me so on this matter? Now I wish it were you who were chosen for that marriage." Ianthe grumbled.

"Oh that wouldn't be very nice. Not very nice at all..." Elysia replied, staring out the window as though recalling sweet memories that only she knew. Ianthe thought her young sister looked as though she were a fairy from some childhood tale that they had so often heard. She walked light as a feather, and had flawless skin that was toppled with rosy cheeks. How perfect her sister was! It totally made Ianthe feel inferior, for she was the opposite of Elysia.

Then it dawned on her. "Elysia, are you in love?"

Elysia spun around in shock. She paled a little, then said, "Aye, sister, but speak not of it to anyone else!" She fingered locks of her hair, embarrassed and nervous. It was then Ianthe's turn to laugh at her.

"Do you not trust me, dear Elysia? I will keep this secret safe in a chest, until you are ready to tell."

"And hide that chest from sight, too!"

Ianthe laughed again. "Who is the lucky boy?" she curiously asked, lying on her stomach and resting her chin on her hands.

She watched as Elysia's cheeks grew rosier from the blush, and then Elysia went over to Ianthe and sat down beside her sister.

"It's Leander."

"Oh!!" Ianthe cried in surprise. "That boy who has midnight black hair, big eyes and a fair complexion?" Ianthe eagerly asked. "Who can recite poetry during sword-fighting?"

Elysia nodded at every detail, the shade of red on her cheeks deepening every moment. Ianthe clapped, and laughed yet again. It had let her off for some time upon the matter of her engagement.

"Leander...hmm...Leander..." Ianthe repeated, pretending to ponder over the name.

"Quit your teasing! If you repeat it any further, Mother and Father will suspect something." Elysia nervously said, looking towards the door, as though trying to peer through the wood, for whether there was anyone outside.

"Alright, alright. But indeed thus far it seems that you two are a perfect match." Ianthe commented, being more serious now. After some thought, she added, "We shall see."

"Oh you used my words back at me!" Elysia cried, hurling a pillow towards her sister.

"Children, it's dinner time!" The girls' mother called from outside the room.

"Do you think Mother heard?" Elysia anxiously asked.

"Of course not, Elysia, don't be so paranoid." Ianthe assured, unlocking the door to her room.

* * *

The family sat at the dining table, eating quietly, just like they used to. When dinner finished, they all sat still at the table, looking at their empty plates until their father spoke.

"As you all well know by now... Ianthe is getting married to Lord Boromir, and she will not be with us so often anymore. Do you have anything to say to your brothers and sisters, Ianthe?" Their father looked to their older sister, who still looked as dull as before.

"I have nothing to speak of, Father. They are independent enough. I do not wish to corrupt their minds as you might say." Ianthe answered in an equally dull voice.

"Nothing?" Their father asked again.

"No, sir." Ianthe answered in a formal tone. She had never spoken like a father-and-daughter conversation should go, ever before, for she was not close with her father.

"Very well then. You shall be meeting the Lord Boromir tomorrow."

Ianthe sighed. Everything had to come so soon.

* * *

"Father, why have you chosen her so soon, without even realising what she is like? It is not like you, father, to do this for your son." Boromir questioned, pacing in his father's study.

Denethor looked at his eldest son, his pride, and answered, "It is time you have gotten yourself a woman, Boromir. As for why I chose her, it is simple. By her build, it tells me she is a good bearer of children." Even though Boromir might have thought his father was not picking out the best lady for him, still Denethor knew, it was obvious the lady looked dull only because she had not the heart to make herself fancy. Besides, the girl's father was of a high rank in the country, and the marriage would've been suitable... In time, under his son's headstrong guidance, perhaps the child might be moulded into a gentle lady, Denethor assured himself. Perhaps it would be a challenge for him...

Boromir sighed. His younger brother, Faramir, had told him of this woman's temper, and of her dull looks, such that he grew to dislike the woman. He detested women who thought too well of themselves and not knowing their place in a home, but his bride-to-be being heard as dull-looking was an additional negative factor.

But he didn't know exactly what Ianthe was really like...


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

The snow was falling thicker and thicker on the ground, whitening Minas Tirith more than it already is. Children started bursting out of their doors, laughing and prancing about, once the dawn had risen. Mothers smiled, keeping sight of their overjoyed children, on their doorsteps, while Fathers rolled along in the snow with the kids.

"'Tis a beautiful day." Elysia commented, leaning out the window. But Ianthe sat very quietly, her head supported by a hand, sitting at the dining table.

Lysandra emerged from her room, laughing. She walked over to her two sisters, sitting down at the dining table. "Why the long face, sister?" she asked Ianthe.

"For Father's words the last evening." Ianthe replied, frowning even more.

"It should not be a worry, sister. It is but a meeting, what do you have to fear?" Lysandra questioned.

"I don't want to wed."  
"Then you'd rather accumulate winters until you are lined with the scars of old age, and weak without a companion? Who in those times would take care of you?"

"Then I'll make it more specific -- I do not want to wed men like the Lord Boromir, whose head is all filled with battles, victory and power!" Ianthe answered harshly, banging her fist on the table.

Lysandra jumped at this. Ianthe muttered an apology, and slumped down to rest her head on the table. "What is it that has made him agree to it anyway?" Ianthe wondered aloud.

"Father is of a high rank." Lysandra suggested.

"What about not choosing you or Elysia? The both of you are much more graceful and talented than your sister here, and of course would be a better choice in times when men crease their foreheads and seek for someone to comfort them. I am afraid I will only trouble my husband."

"Elysia is too young. And so am I. Who can say how things will go in the future? Change comes quickly, and no one knows how or why it comes." Lysandra answered.

"And is I seeing twenty-nine winters enough for him?"

"You're closer than the rest of us."

Ianthe groaned. She had some hours before being whisked off to meet her future husband. She rose from her seat, and stared out the window as well. "Might we three go outside for fresher air? It feels dense in here this morning." Ianthe suggested.

The three sisters went out their door, watching the children play in the snow. Ianthe let down her hair, for it could at least shield her from a little cold. She watched as Elysia went up to a heap of snow, and settled down beside to build tiny snowmen. Ianthe sat down beside her.

"You'll get your dress wet!" Elysia reminded.

"It's not like I'm remaining in this dress forever." Ianthe said, brushing that fact away.

All that morning, they joined the children in the snow, and by chance, a figure passed by. A snowball slipped from Elysia's fingers as she gazed above. Ianthe bit back a laugh. "There's your Prince Charming, Elysia!" Ianthe said in a loud whisper.

"Shh! He knows not of my feelings; it would be wise even to keep them secret from him." Elysia nervously replied, staring after the leaving figure.

"Then how will he ever know?"

"Elysia, you fancy Leander?" Lysandra asked. A blush crept up on Elysia's face again, which signalled a 'yes' to Lysandra. She chuckled.

"If you don't ask him soon, you'll not get the chance to attend the Winter Festival with him." Lysandra reminded. The Winter Festival was an annual event, held for a week in wintertime. It was a usual sight for couples, young and old, to attend the festival together, visiting round its many stalls, decorations and parties.

Elysia twirled her finger in the snow, letting it turn numb, while her face showed worry for the mentioned matter.

"And you, sister?" Lysandra asked, looking at Ianthe. "Are you going with the Lord Boromir?"

"I hope our parents don't push us to attend it, that is all." Ianthe answered, rounding a snowball. "I would have loved to build a snow castle, but judging from the hustle and bustle of children running into their houses, it is lunch time, and we are supposed to be up at the citadel for lunch with the steward's family."

The three sisters slowly got up from the ground, brushing off the snow, and entering their house once more.

* * *

"Oh there you three are, I've been worrying we might be late. Again." Their mother glared at Ianthe, obviously unhappy about yesterday's lateness. "Go change yourselves into better clothes, and Ianthe, do NOT bun your hair, please."

Ianthe ignored the last instruction, and twisted her hair still, into a lazy bun. She peered into her closet for something comfortable and warm enough.

Their mother surveyed their dressing, and sighed when her eyes fell upon Ianthe. "Will you not ever paint yourself in better shape, my child?"

"Mother, it is but a meeting. This is how I am. I do not wish to wear a disguise and fool the lords of my lazy ways. If they deem me unfit for the marriage, so be it. Rather than they regretting upon marriage." Ianthe argued.

"Ianthe, the dress is beautiful. But I'd wish you would let your hair down. You have beautiful locks to show. Your face is void of powder and rouge, will you not learn from your younger sisters?"

"Mother, you know me. I am not as naturally-blessed as my sisters who are beautiful by nature. Their grace can endure wind and winter.You have watched me grow up for 29 winters, surely you understand that when I say I am not going to doll myself up, I mean it!" Ianthe said, almost shouting.

Her mother, giving up on the argument, went to check on her two sons, who were still sparring with each other in their room.

* * *

"Why should I even have to see her, when you have already decided upon her being my wife?" Boromir questioned his father in the dining hall, obviously not wanting to meet his future wife. "Father, you have always let me have my way, I should have the right to choose."

"My son, you have taken too long, and I know your intent is not to have a wife, but we lack a heir in our line, do you not see?" Denethor asked.

Boromir grinned at the sight of his brother. "Tell me brother, how is it she looks?" The two brothers were now in a corner of the hall.

"The lady has jet-black hair, fair skin, and a tall figure." Faramir answered.

"Then why is it you say negatively about her looks?"

"Brother, she puts no powder on her face. Her hair is always tied up lazily into a bun, as though she were some handmaiden. Her fiery temper is already enough to frighten the men off." Faramir explained, shaking his head. "Perhaps you shall find her otherwise."

The snow was gently falling as the family made their way to the citadel. As they removed their cloaks, they were guided by a nearby guard to the dining hall, where they were greeted by the Steward and his sons.

Ianthe glanced at Boromir before returning her gaze to the Steward. Boromir had a pair of eyes that seemed to pierce through others, showing the bearer's authority. Ianthe did not like him at all, though the piercing of his eyes had another odd effect on her, of which she could not explain. His hair was golden, much more golden than that of his brother. 

Boromir surveyed the woman before her. He had caught her glancing at him, then turning away. She was tall, but never as tall as himself. Was he going to spend his entire life being together with this woman only by name?

As the family sat down at the dining table, Ianthe only looked at her plate, savouring the food silently, paying utmost attention to it. Halfway through the second course, she felt a nudge from Elysia and turned to her sister, mouthing a "what?"

"I don't think anything you do can salvage the situation now." Elysia whispered.

"You will not attend our wedding." Ianthe whispered back through gritted teeth.

While her parents struck yet another conversation with the steward during dessert, Ianthe excused herself from the table, heading towards a long balcony. She chose to go right to the end of it, being hidden as far as possible from the diners. She had left her cloak forgotten in the process, and wished not to return to take it.

As though someone had read her thoughts, a cloak was draped onto her shoulders. She spun round to come face to face with Boromir.

"Why is the lady out here without a cloak?" Boromir asked, resting his elbows on the balcony railings, gazing out to the city of Men.

"And what has this got to do with you, my Lord?" Ianthe shot back.

"It is simply for the welfare of my people." Boromir answered.

"Oh, so you deem yourself a good ruler, fit for the role? I see you, standing here, as an arrogant and conceited man, who thinks too highly of yourself."

"Really? Well then I see you as a person who judges too quickly, and who does not know her place."

Ianthe glared at Boromir, then clenched her fists and retreated to the table. She had not argued back, for his words were true -- she judged very quickly most of the time, and she had spoken out of turn to someone who was of a higher authority than she. Still, she did not feel totally defeated. She would not concede, for she was sure of her judgment of Boromir.

* * *

That evening, after dinner, Elysia visited Ianthe again, asking, "So, what did you two say on the balcony?"

"We spoke little. We were hostile to each other." Ianthe simply replied, her back resting on a propped up pillow. She picked up her flute, examining its craft with her fingers.

"Hostility is not going to save you. You should at least try to be more positive on the marriage." Elysia said, a tone of reprimanding in her voice.

"No one can help it if I run."  
"Sure you aren't thinking of that?!"

"Nay, sister, I would be caught in a second. I do not know the outer lands, and I am not a sports person. But I do hate him, I don't want to live with him for the rest of my life!" Ianthe gave a frustrated cry, then there was silence.

"I miss grandmother." Ianthe suddenly said quietly. Her grandmother was the only person who could tame Ianthe's temper, and make her smile by just her presence. Ianthe closed her eyes as she recalled her grandmother drawing her last breath. "I wish she were here." She whispered, as though only telling herself. "It was my fault..."

Ianthe started sobbing, huddle like the figure of a child on the bed. Elysia walked over to her sister, put a hand on her shoulder. "It is not your fault. Grandma did what she did to save you. If she saw you weeping over her like this, she would grieve! We promised not to cry over this."

"If grandmother was here, I would not feel this lost!" Ianthe sobbed, refraining from bursting out into crying.

"Grandmother is always with us. You know that. She is always around though we can't see her, and we can't feel her. She will watch over you." Elysia comforted.

Ianthe forced a smile, wiping her tears. "Aye, she is..."

* * *

A/N: Sorry for the addition of a relationship with Ianthe's grandmother. It is a tribute to my own grandmother who has passed away recently...Of course, I am NOT Ianthe.


	4. Chapter 4

_You can call it lame or whatsoever, but I am still in the midst of improvement…Constructive criticism welcome._

**Chapter 4**

"Have you heard of the wedding date?"

"Sometime next month?" Ianthe answered, shrugging of the question.

"Are you not in the least bit upset about it? This is highly unlikely of you." Elysia said, looking suspiciously at her sister.

"Like you said two nights ago, being upset cannot solve anything."

"Pardon me for saying this, but sister, you are headstrong, stubborn, you get the drift, and yet here you are, as though already accepting the marriage!"

"I may have, I seem to, but it does not mean I have accepted that man!" Ianthe replied sharply. "I beg you, wash the issue off. What about Leander?"

Ianthe noticed a blush creeping up on Elysia's face again, and she paced around the room. "Well...what about him?"

"Why, the Winter Festival, of course!" Ianthe exclaimed.

"Oh."

"Oh?"

"I do not have the courage to tell him." Elysia finally said, sitting down on a nearby chair. "You know I am timid, sister. I am not like you."

"Yes of course you are not like your unrefined sister." Ianthe murmured.

"Hmm? What did you say, sister?"

"Oh, nothing. And what are you planning to do about it? Do you want to just watch him walk past you your whole life? And what if you glimpse the sight of another in his arms? Do you want to suffer like that?"

"What about you? You are stubbornly not accepting your future husband. Do you want to live your whole life watching him come and go, bonding with him only by name?" Elysia shot back.

"Do not twist the matter, Elysia."

Elysia sighed heavily. "It is now my turn to find the house feeling dense and humid. I would like some fresh air outside. Do you not want to skate? The ice is now thick and stable. It shall blow our worries away from our face."

"I do not wish to skate, but I desire my flute. It was grandmother who taught me how to play it, despite her son's disapproval. I will watch you while I play." Ianthe replied, patting her pocket. She carried her flute wherever she went, in a pocket in her dress.

"Oh but bring your skates along anyway, sister. You might change your mind." Elysia persuaded.

"Very well."

---------

The two sisters traveled down the city of snow, until they came upon the first level of it. Through a small door north of the city, they went to greet the glistening lake of ice, which stretched rather far out. Ianthe pulled her cloak closer to her as she sat on the bank, watching her sister put on skating boots.

Ianthe withdrew her flute from her pocket, playing a quiet tune while a petite and beautiful glided on the ice. Elysia closed her eyes, feeling the cold breeze against her fair face. There was no one about, for they were all keeping warm in their homes. Soldiers were on duty, puffs of smoke emitting from their lips as they paced about, feeling the cold from the metallic armor. They had cloaks about them. Somewhere in the city, Lysandra was singing. The two brothers of Ianthe still held swords in their hands.

Their cheeks grew rosier by the minute, and even a certain beauty graced Ianthe's face. Her dark hair was splayed all around her as she switched to a sorrowful tune, and Elysia's skating slowed down, as she pondered on memories, her hair billowing behind her.

Elysia's eyes flew open as she heard Ianthe's flute stopped. She followed her sister's gaze, and her sight rested upon a familiar figure. Elysia stared for a very long time, her cheeks red from blushing. The figure stared back, as though mesmerized.

Ianthe slowly got up and crept away quietly, her presence unknown. Taking a last peek before she closed the door behind her, she saw Elysia skating towards Leander, nervous. Not desiring to drop any eaves, Ianthe went away, smiling to herself.

"Sister! Come. Lord Boromir has left a message for you. He has invited you to attend the winter festival with him." Lysandra reported, advancing towards Ianthe.

Ianthe gaped at her sister, not for the news, but for the excellent garb that she was in. Lysandra gave a puzzled look, then understood. "Oh, this. I just returned from the town's tailor. This is for the festival..." Lysandra explained, beaming.

"W-What did you say just now, anyway?" Ianthe enquired, shifting her gaze away from the gown.

"Lord Boromir has invited you to attend the Winter Festival with him."

Ianthe gaped yet again at Lysandra. "That is impossible! He did not like me one bit when we first locked our sight on each other, how could he want to attend the festival with me?!" Ianthe asked aloud, pacing around.

"Do you still dislike him so, Ianthe? Does he irk you that much? I suppose it were one of his Father's wishes."

"I hate him!" Ianthe immediately replied. "Well isn't he all so obedient to his father!"

Lysandra smiled at Ianthe's words. "You are always too hasty in choosing your words." Lysandra commented.

--------------

"You have asked her?" Faramir asked his brother while they dueled with their swords.

"I left a message for her. Her beautiful sister said she was not home." Boromir answered, meeting his sword with his brother's.

Faramir stepped back as Boromir advanced. "Beautiful sister? Lady Lysandra? Have you an eye for her?"

"Nay, I spoke of her as beautiful, simply to tell the truth." Boromir swung his sword, and Faramir dodged the blow.

"I thought you disliked her. Why would you do Father's bidding and invite her for the festival?" Faramir questioned.

"Why do you put the matter in such awful words, brother? Yes, it is to please father, but that is only a fraction of my reason. I am curious about this maiden." Boromir answered.

"Ah, I see."

----------------------

"Who are you attending the festival with, Lysandra?" Ianthe asked, sipping from her goblet of hot chocolate.

Lysandra sipped on hers before replying, "I am going with our two brothers."

"Why? You have many suitors, you don't fancy a single one?"

"No. They all look to me for beauty, that is all. I do not want that in a partner. I shall go with my brothers. They will be as much fun. I wonder if Elysia will go?"

Ianthe grinned. "The last I saw of her, she was with Leander. Reckon she'd go with him. He had stared at her mesmerized! If it were not for spoiling the atmosphere, I'd have laughed. I know not what Elysia might have said to him, for I left them to their hearing soon after."

"Ah, she perhaps finally will pluck the courage to expose her feelings." Lysandra said, nodding in approval. She then let out a laugh, one that was musical. "Ianthe! Your lips are outlined by chocolate!"

Ianthe ran to the mirror, and laughed at herself as well. After cleaning up herself, Ianthe walked slowly to her grandmother's locked room, retrieved the key from a hidden drawer, and entered.

Nothing had been moved ever since Ianthe's grandmother passed away. Ianthe's father had kept the key away in a drawer hidden among the walls, but Ianthe had found it. She had been in here once in a while to 'speak' to her grandmother, or to dust the room. It had been three weeks since Ianthe last stopped by. She softly locked the door behind her, then surveyed the room. A bed stood at a corner of the room, concealed by a semi-transparent lavender curtain.

Ianthe found the tables rather dusty, and took out cloth from a closet where she hid some supplies of various sorts, so as to not be caught passing into the room. No one suspected anything for the tables being clean and polished, and the floor scrubbed and shining, for no one else entered the room.

After her task was finished, Ianthe sat on a nearby cushion chair, looking towards the old bed. "Grandma?" Ianthe called out, even though she knew that there would be no reply. "I have been betrothed to the Lord Boromir. I feel very lost, for I know I cannot do a thing to prevent the marriage, but I do not want a man who dislikes me and who is arrogant, to be my life mate. Am I very wrong to be defiant? Grandma, if you were here, I wouldn't feel so lost. I wish you would give me an answer as to what I should do..."

As if by magic, a scroll rolled down to the ground, while dust rose from it. Ianthe was stunned for a moment, but she assumed it was the wind from the window. She held up the scroll, and hesitated, but decided to open it. What harm would it do, to read it, anyway? Ianthe unrolled the scroll, letting her eyes fall upon the words.

_"Learn to accept and accept to learn."_

Ianthe read the line over and over again. She noticed that over time, the ink had been dissolved by some means, perhaps soaking of water, but only this line was left visible. She creased her forehead. What did that mean? Was her grandmother there? Was she trying to tell her granddaughter something?

The Ianthe widened her eyes. "You want me to accept my future husband, and learn to love him?" As though by answer, a breeze blew in through the slightly opened window, leaving Ianthe to stare into space, still stunned.

--------

The days came and went, and for a week or so, nothing happened. Elysia and Ianthe had gone often to the lake, but sometimes Elysia would sneak out of the house to meet Leander. It was confirmed that she was attending the Festival with him. Though, when asked how she voiced out to him, Elysia would only blush and look away.

The days drew nearer, the snow thicker, and soon the day came for the festival.

"Would you like me to help you?" Elysia asked, bringing her gown over to Ianthe's room. Ianthe knew her sister referred to dolling up, and for once, she nodded.

Elysia stared at her sister, surprised. "But if you don't want to, by all means, it's fine with me." Ianthe reassured.

"No, it's not that. You hated dressing up. Why the sudden agreement to it now? The past week, you have been very odd. You stare into space, you play with your food. Your mind is not with us all the time. What is wrong? To be frank, I am not used to having such a quiet Ianthe in the house. Where is your temper?" Elysia threw questions at Ianthe, concerned for the change in her sister.

"Perhaps if grandmother were here, she would tell me to access the situation more calmly, and accept this man. She has told me..."

"Are you running a fever? What are you saying? You said you hated him, and yet you say grandmother has told you to accept him?"

Ianthe explained the events in grandmother's room, and Elysia gasped. "You've been into grandmother's room?!"

"Shh! Be silent, no one must know." Ianthe put a finger to Elysia's lips. "I do not see how I can love this man. Yet I am curious as to why grandma has told me this. Perhaps it is purely coincidental as to what was on the scroll, but since it has taught me something...Maybe I should heed it. But I do not think I will love this man. Perhaps we shall be hostile still, but come to an agreement. I hate to think about it, but perhaps it is like we are two countries at war agreeing on a peace treaty." Ianthe sighed. "In any case, for once, I shall see if I ever can be beautiful, if not graceful. Why spoil the fun? I am doing this not for his eyes to see, but for mine."

Elysia let out a smile, and nodded. "Lysandra shall be performing at the festival this evening." Elysia informed, sitting Ianthe down in front of her dressing table. Ianthe was already in her gown, a light shade of periwinkle, with light, airy-looking material. It resembled the chiton. (A/N: Greek dressing...) A silver belt hung about her waist, decorated with leaves. It was a gift from her aunt, who had heard of the engagement not some time ago. Ianthe had wondered at the gift, for it was more suited to the likes of Lysandra and Elysia.

Ianthe brought her gaze up to the mirror, and saddened at the reflection. How could such an ugly duckling fit into the gown? It was painful to look at the mirror, and Ianthe kept her gaze downcast. Elysia noted it, and said, "You should not be so negative. You are beautiful in your own way. You do not seem to always smile. You look beautiful when you smile. Trust me. If you think me beautiful, and you, not, then we wouldn't be called sisters."

"Well my hands have never done higher grooming than the basic."

Ianthe smiled at Elysia through the mirror, and then looked at herself in the mirror. Yes, she looked better when she was looking at her reflection in a happier mood. "Well the first thing to do is styling your hair. So we can get it out of the way while we colour your face." Elysia said, then withdrew a silver pin from her pockets. "I got this for you as a birthday gift for you, but now I am giving it to you early. Happy 29th birthday, Ianthe."

Ianthe picked up the pin. At the end of it was a periwinkle-coloured flower, surrounded by silver leaves. A single leaf dangled from a single thin, silver chain right below the flower. "Did you arrange it with Aunt Maeve?" Ianthe asked, laughing.

"It was pure coincidence that the colours suited." Elysia answered. She gathered her sister's hair, braiding it into a bun, let the ends of it fall before her shoulder. The pin was stuck through her hair. "There, it shows off your locks as well as let you have the comfort of not letting Boromir see you in pretence."

Ianthe grinned up at her sister. A pouch was laid out on the table, and Elysia carried on with painting Ianthe to beautiful face. Ianthe shut her eyes, letting Elysia carry on, and nearly dozed off. She was awoken by Elysia's excited shout of, "Done!" Ianthe slowly opened her eyes, slowly looking at the mirror.

Ianthe froze in her seat, breath-taken. Was that her in the mirror? Who was that elegant face staring back at her? "I've made your lips a paler and lighter colour, for I do not think dark suits what you are clad in at the moment." Elysia explained. "Perhaps you wanted to flaunt your temper?" she joked.

Ianthe did not reply, but continued staring at herself in the mirror. She might not be as pretty as Elysia and Lysandra when they, too, had a makeover, but Ianthe's eyes had never seen herself in powder and rouge, and was stunned at the effect. How expert Elysia was in this...

Ianthe tore her gaze from the mirror, and waited nearby while Elysia changed into her gown. "Umm, sister, may I ask of you to help me lace the back of my dress?" Elysia requested.

Ianthe retrieved something from the drawer, then went over to her sister. Elysia noticed that Ianthe now hung a single ear accessory on her right ear. "I had thought you had let the wound heal." Elysia said.

"After the pain I went through? Of course not!" Ianthe replied. Her mother had brought her at a tender age of 7 to the jeweler for ear piercing, but upon the first jolt of pain, Ianthe had wailed, begging her mother not to have her pierce the other ear. Still, Ianthe kept a stick through the hole, to prevent it from healing. Now, a silver accessory hung from it, which resembled a mythic design.

Elysia advanced towards the dressing table as her sister finished the lacing. Elysia was such an expert at what to do, there was no need for Ianthe to help her at all. Once again, Ianthe felt herself land in the arms of helplessness and uselessness.

A knock resounded from outside the house. Then later, knocks came hurriedly on Ianthe's door. Ianthe peered out the door, greeted by her mother. "My dear child!" Her mother exclaimed, taking in the sight. "You finally are willing to make yourself presentable."

"Which does not mean I have an interest in the steward-heir." She muttered in reply.

"In any case, Leander and Lord Boromir have arrived. They are waiting in the dining hall." With that, she left, smiling to herself.

"Why is mother smiling to herself?" Elysia asked.

"Why do you ask a question which you know the answer to?"

When Elysia was done, Ianthe thought her sister had looked more beautiful than a fairy, as she had thought so the other day. Elysia donned a dress of royal blue, contrasting against her fair skin.

"Do you think I should rid myself of this mask?" Ianthe nervously asked.

"You are not going to waste my efforts!"

"I've never shown this to the world before!" Ianthe argued, but by now they had reached the dining hall.

The two men looked up from their conversation, and Leander smiled gently at Elysia, offering a hand. Boromir, on the other hand, looked at Ianthe as though his eyes were under some spell. Was that his wife-to-be? Why had the rebellious she made herself beautiful now?

Ianthe felt jittery, and even more so under the intense stare of Boromir. She turned round, her back towards her husband-to-be, wondering if she had looked odd. If only he would stop staring! Ianthe wanted to snap at him for that, for she felt perhaps Boromir was only after beauty. But as soon as she was about to speak, Boromir, too, offered a hand.

Ianthe took it, but she did not look at its owner. Leander and Elysia had already left the scene. Very slowly, they made their way to the festival square, but neither spoke. It was very unlikely of both of them, but Ianthe had no wish to speak, and did not know what to speak.

Boromir had wanted to comment on Ianthe's dressing, but thought better of it. He still held disapproval of this woman, and perhaps even if he did sing praises of her, another verbal war would arise.

As they strolled on, the silence seemed to stretch into an uncomfortable tension, and Ianthe's sneeze made Boromir bit back a smile. Ianthe hugged her winter coat closer, releasing her hand from the link Boromir and her had.

"Are you cold, my lady?" Boromir finally asked.

Ianthe nodded a little, and then replied, "I'll be fine in a while. It's just too empty in these streets."

Lights of various colours shone before them, and they knew they had reached the Festival Square. Beyond the square extended three lanes of stalls and decorations. Ianthe felt relieved as a little more warmth returned, with the hustle and bustle of people, and the flames from the lights above. A smile crept onto Ianthe's face.

There was a performance in the middle of the square, and Ianthe hurried to the stage, looking up at the performance. Boromir kept up with her pace. As the performer bowed and left, a beautiful woman ascended the stage, and Ianthe applauded along with the others. Boromir looked at the performer, and realised that it was Lysandra, Ianthe's sister. Lysandra looked even more beautiful that night, for she was in colourful and radiant clothes, and she had danced and sang, moving with grace.

_ There is so much difference between Lysandra and Ianthe, _Boromir noted.

As the performance came to an end, Ianthe suddenly exclaimed, "Oh that was beautiful, do you not agree?" She was then surprised herself that she had spoke to Boromir as though he were an old friend. She remained silent after that, avoiding his eyes.

"Aye, that was." Boromir agreed. "Your sister has talent."

Ianthe smiled, then sighed silently, such that it was inaudible to anyone but herself. Boromir's words had reminded her of how inferior she felt. Her train of thoughts was broken when someone nearby dived for her pockets. Ianthe cried out in alarm, at what he had stolen. Her flute was gone!

Without warning, Ianthe rushed after the thief. Why had the thief even stolen it anyway? Or did he miss her purse and grabbed the flute instead? Ianthe wished it was been her purse that was stolen, not the flute. Every flute that she owned, broken or no, held sentimental value for her, and she hated for any one to be lost.

"Wait, Ianthe-" Boromir had called out, but Ianthe paid no heed, and he dashed after her.

Ianthe ran off into the right lane, dodging couples as she flew after the thief. It was hard to keep him in sight with the crowd, but Ianthe noted that he wore black -- a shade not many were wearing. _The fool doesn't even conceal himself! _Ianthe thought. She had only been at the festival for a while, and yet something like this had happened. She could faintly hear someone shouting her name behind, but she cared not. The flute first, then the shout.

Ianthe gained on the thief rather quickly, for she had longer legs than he, and she reached out her hand to grab him. At the same time, Boromir had caught up with her, now being in a less concentrated lane. The thief, terrified of being caught, threw down the flute at the ground, and sprinted off. Ianthe landed on the ground to catch the flute, afraid for its fall, and Boromir now lay on top of her.

They were laughing, even though it was not funny at all. Yet Ianthe was contented for the flute to be back. When Ianthe finally realised the position she was in, hastily got up after Boromir, both of them feeling awkward.

"I apologize." Boromir said.

"There was no wrong." Ianthe assured, putting her flute back into her coat. They leaned over the wall, watching the festivities below. They were now a level above the square.

--------------------

Silence regained its position, and then Boromir asked, "If I may ask so, what significance does the flute hold that makes you so eager to get it back? You were furious in the chase."

"I have a passion for the flute... So I had not want to make this the first flute I lose. My father does not approve of me mastering the flute rather than the harp, but in the end he could do nothing to stop me from playing it. It was my grandmother who taught me how to play it." Ianthe answered, then she grew alarmed that she had divulged so much information when she needed only to say she loved the flute dearly.

"Ah, I see." Boromir replied, not knowing what to say. How had this woman grown less fiery, and less defiant? He was puzzled.

Ianthe wondered if she would ever grow to love this man, or whether he would love her. She decided that perhaps since they both did not agree with each other on the marriage, she might ask of him what he would do. "My Lord," she began hesitantly, "I have a question. What is it that you seek of this marriage?"

"What about you?" Boromir returned the question, for he did not know what to answer to it.

Ianthe was stumped. She had not foreseen the coming of the question back towards her. "You may say that I have spoken too boldly, and it is not my place to negotiate, and I will not deny it, but, my lord, if you so want me to bear you a heir, I will fulfill my duty, though I do it without love. It is your duty to see that a heir is present, thus this marriage, is it not? And I will mother the child, of course, and sit home and tend to it, though it is unlikely of me. But I have a request.. And that is to have mutual respect between us. I dislike discrimination, my Lord."

Boromir looked at the woman, who kept her eyes fixed on the festival square. He, too, gazed at the square, then replied, "My lady, will you have that? Why do you seal the marriage with a peace treaty? Do you really want our marriage to last like this for our lives? Will there not be at least friendship between us?"

Ianthe turned abruptly towards her husband-to-be, and said a bit more harshly, "Do you think even if we tried, there would be friendship between us? How much do we even like and appreciate each other? You see me as a distasteful wife, and perhaps you are right. You seem to have no respect for women who voice out their opinions, so how could there be friendship between us, if we do not even agree on such things?"

A sigh escaped from Boromir's lips. "Am I so detestable?" he questioned. Ianthe did not reply. "Why do you not release your hair?" Boromir finally questioned, and without asking for permission, removed the silver pin from Ianthe's hair.

Ianthe gasped as the wind blew her hair into place. She looked away, closing her eyes.

Boromir stared at her. It was the second time that day he had done so, and for the same reason as well. How had the little caterpillar morphed into a butterfly so suddenly? "Why do you not show your beauty when you can? Do you purpose on it to let others think you are a dull, fiery maiden?" Boromir asked.

"Please, sir, lay your eyes off me." Ianthe said, trembling from the cold wind.

"And why would you not want me to gaze upon you?"

For that Ianthe had no answer. She did not know why. In that moment, she felt unsure of herself, as though she found herself a stranger. To try to ease off the embarrassment, Ianthe had requested to stroll down the streets through the festival.

----------------------------

Faramir greeted Boromir as he entered his room. "Did you not go, Faramir?"

"Nay, never on the first day. So, how was she? Did she argue with you again?"

"Aye... For some part, yes."

Spotting the pondering look on his brother's face, Faramir asked, "How did she look like?"

"Most beautiful."


End file.
